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Poem	'Tis so appalling -- it exhilarates -- So over Horror, it half Captivates -- The Soul stares after it, secure -- A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more -- To scan a Ghost, is faint -- But grappling, conquers it -- How easy, Torment, now -- Suspense kept sawing so -- The Truth, is Bald, and Cold -- But that will hold -- If any are not sure -- We show them -- prayer -- But we, who know, Stop hoping, now -- Looking at Death, is Dying -- Just let go the Breath -- And not the pillow at your Cheek So Slumbereth -- Others, Can wrestle -- Yours, is done -- And so of Woe, bleak dreaded -- come, It sets the Fright at liberty -- And Terror's free -- Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!
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